


Country Magic #10 - Nobody but You

by olivejuice28



Series: Country Magic [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22895449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivejuice28/pseuds/olivejuice28
Summary: An unexpected moment leads to something much more. Based on the song "Nobody but You" by Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Country Magic [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1518281
Comments: 25
Kudos: 68





	Country Magic #10 - Nobody but You

**Country Magic #10**

**Nobody but You**

Lots of great love stories start with a chance encounter; a romantic moment where eyes meet across a crowded room, or a twist of fate that no one could have predicted. Not theirs, though. No, theirs started with a rock.

They were both helping to rebuild the castle in the late summer that followed the Final Battle. Her, because she needed a distraction, needed to throw herself into something that would help her feel like she was moving forward, something that would exhaust her mind and body enough each day to allow her at least a few hours of nightmare-free sleep. Him, because he was there as part of his court-ordered sentence, but he would have volunteered anyway due to a desperate need to assuage the guilt and shame and remorse that pummeled him mercilessly every waking moment.

His third day on the grounds, he had been spelling windowpanes back into place in the Charms classroom. When the last one settled in its rightful spot, he went in search of a faculty member to assign him his next task. He was walking through the corridor that opened to the courtyard when he saw her standing in the middle of the vast and empty space. It was one of the few areas that had already been restored and looked eerily picturesque in the midst of the rubble and destruction that still remained throughout the school. He slowed his steps as he tried to figure out what she was doing; she seemed to be looking down at something in her right hand, while her left hung by her side, her wand clutched tightly in its grip.

Though he’d made no attempt to quiet his footsteps down the hall, or as he entered the familiar enclosure, he wasn’t entirely sure she was aware of his presence. He didn’t know why he’d even changed course and approached her; it was as if his legs had made the decision for him and his brain simply didn’t protest. He stopped several yards away and was debating whether or not he should interrupt her solitude when he saw her shoulders jerk and heard the unmistakable sound of a choked sob. Before he could utter a single syllable, or take a step in any direction, she spun around with a scream of rage and flung whatever had been in her hand as hard as she could without aiming.

The object was an apple-sized rock, and it was headed directly at his face.

He didn’t have time to blink, much less move, as the granite projectile zoomed over his right shoulder, grazing his ear the tiniest bit on its way by. His eyes were bulging and his heart pounding like a charging centaur, but it was nothing to her reaction. Her face, which had been redder than a beetroot when she’d initially faced him turned deathly pale, and her eyes were wide and horrified and brimming with tears. Her wand clattered to the ground as her hands covered her mouth and she took several unsteady steps towards him before completely bursting into tears and crumpling to her knees.

He wasn’t exactly sure what to do. He didn’t think she’d meant to aim the stone at him, didn’t think she would ever intentionally hurt anyone. He also didn’t think she’d want any comfort from him of all people, but he couldn’t just stand there and watch her sob. It was tearing at his heart in an uncomfortable way and once again, his legs seemed to move of their own volition. He covered the distance between them and knelt in front of her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders in an awkward gesture of support. She registered his touch, apparently, because she inhaled shakily, straightened from her hunched position, and peered up at him with tears still coursing down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Malfoy,” she whispered brokenly, and he could see the remorse in her amber eyes, “I had no idea you were there. I didn’t hear you. I never would have…would have,” but her words were lost to another bout of crying and she covered her face with her hands again.

He shifted around so he was next to her instead of in front, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, which were shaking quite violently. The gesture seemed to heighten her hysterics, unfortunately, as her sobs grew louder. Not having a clue how to help ease her distress, he wrapped his other arm around the front of her and locked his fingers together, pulling her a little closer into his side. For the next few minutes, he simply let her cry. The irony of the situation was not lost on him that after all he’d done to her, she was upset about something she had _almost_ , and completely unintentionally, done to him.

When the storm seemed to be subsiding, he spoke quietly, not wanting to startle her, “Are you alright?”

She nodded, and wiped her face with the back of her hand, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him, “I’m so, so sorry,” her breath hitched, “I never meant to,” but he cut her off.

“I know you didn’t mean to, and I’m perfectly fine,” he gave a wry chuckle, “You could throw a hundred rocks at me, Granger, and still not owe me an apology.”

She did look at him then, confusion furrowing her brow, a slight downturn to her lips as she shifted a little and he withdrew his arms from around her.

“After everything I put you through? I’m the one who needs to apologize, and I am sorry, truly,” his throat grew tight and his eyes stung, “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I really am.” He dropped his gaze to the ground in front of him and tried to get his emotions under control.

She sat there for several heartbeats before placing a hand on his arm. She waited until he reluctantly met her eyes before speaking, “I know, Malfoy. I know, and I forgave you a long time ago.”

He shook his head in disbelief, “How can you?”

She shrugged gave him a small, watery smile, “I just can. It takes too much effort to hold grudges.”

Desperate to turn the tide of the conversation, lest he become a sobbing mess, he made an attempt at a joke, “You seemed to have quite a grudge against that rock.” They both chuckled at that and she shook her head, a sheepish look on her face.

“I don’t normally do things like that, I just got really angry.”

“At a rock?”

“Well, this is going to sound mental, but yes. I was part of the team that restored this courtyard last week. It was the first part of the castle to be completely repaired. I’ve come out here a few times since then, just to enjoy the peace it offers and the proof that things are getting better.” She paused as if trying to figure out the best way to explain her train of thought, and he was captivated by the expressiveness of her features. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her lips pursed slightly, and her nose wrinkled, and he found it all rather endearing, which shocked him out of his observation and he redirected his gaze to the ground once more.

“When I came out here today, I found that rock sitting in the middle of the path. It wasn’t here yesterday, it doesn’t match any of the stonework out here, it doesn’t belong in the courtyard, and it just made me really mad,” she realized how ridiculous she sounded once the words left her mouth, but he was nodding as if he understood.

“It was cluttering a space you’d helped repair; an unwelcome reminder of all the unfinished, imperfect places left to conquer,” he offered.

“Yes,” she gasped, stunned at his spot-on description, “Exactly.”

“Well, I think you’ve taken care of it,” he made a small show of looking all around them, “Everything looks to be in order out here now.”

She gave an amused huff and heaved herself off the ground, offering her hand to him so he could do likewise. His brows arched in surprise, but he accepted her help, though when he stood she let out a small shriek.

“You’re bleeding!”

“What?” he ran his hand along the side of his face and ear and sure enough, there was a tiny streak of red on his fingers when he brought them around. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” he shrugged but she wasn’t having it.

“Let me fix it, please,” she gazed imploringly at him and he was momentarily lost in the realization that there were flecks of gold in her wide brown eyes.

“Okay,” he agreed, feeling like his lungs weren’t getting enough air.

She retrieved her wand, muttered a simple healing spell, then conjured a small white cloth, which she dampened with another bit of magic. Gently, she turned his face to the side and dabbed at the scratch on the shell of his ear to clean it off. The whole ordeal took less than a minute, but he felt like the world had stopped spinning. His heart was pounding again, but it had nothing to do with fear or alarm and everything to do with how close she was to him, how her breath tickled his neck as she worked, and how nice she smelled, like vanilla and honey and something lightly floral.

When she finished her task and deemed the results acceptable, she stepped back and studied him for a moment, searching his face for something he couldn’t name, but whatever it was she seemed to find it, for she smiled at him.

“Thanks, Malfoy.”

“For what?”

“For not freaking out or hexing me, for understanding,” she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his waist in an unexpected hug and his arms automatically encircled her while his brain stuttered and went mildly numb. When she pulled back after a handful of heartbeats, she smiled at him again and he hoped the one he gave in return seemed relaxed and friendly, and not like he’d gone spare which was how he was currently feeling.

“Let’s go find McGonagall and see where she needs us next,” she tilted her head towards the corridor and he knew he’d follow wherever she went.

ooOoo

They spent almost every day together after that, re-shelving books in the library, brewing new batches of potions for Slughorn’s stores and Madam Pomfrey’s cabinets, helping Hagrid rezone parts of the forest for the creatures whose homes had been damaged or destroyed, and rebuilding the stands on the Quidditch pitch. It took months of hard work and the help of dozens of witches and wizards to get the castle back to its former glory, but by the beginning of December, it was finished. The goal had been to complete the renovations in time for a spring term to take place specifically for Seventh Years who wished to return in order to prepare for and take their N.E.W.T.s. Roughly fifteen students were planning to take advantage of the opportunity, with Draco and Hermione among them.

Their newly-formed friendship continued to blossom as they studied together almost every night, ate most of their meals together, and spent whatever free time they allowed themselves in each other’s company. He had been extremely apprehensive about returning to the castle for classes, but when she mentioned getting rooms near each other in a letter she’d written over the Christmas holidays, he knew he’d join her. Most of the returning students had also helped with the repairs and had established, at the very least, a civil acquaintance with the tall blonde. He suspected much of their acceptance of him had everything to do with the petite brunette found often by his side, but he wasn’t about to complain.

He learned more about her than he ever thought possible in those months, and assumed she’d probably found out a great deal about him as well. However, while he was sure she knew how he liked his tea, and what his favorite books were, and how horrible he was at Exploding Snap, he highly doubted she spent hours obsessing over every new discovery. That particular activity was relegated to the dark recesses of his mind until late at night when he was alone in his room and able to sift through his thoughts about the girl on the other side of the wall. He’d grown to appreciate her company on a variety of levels; her intelligence was unmatched, and her sense of humor continually surprised and amused him. Their friendly banter sometimes turned flirtatious and he typically curbed it before he said something that would expose his deeper feelings, but the truth was that she had become the center of his universe without even knowing it. He adored everything about her, even her riotous curls and her stubborn refusal to back down from an argument. He looked forward to each day, knowing he’d get to spend most of it with her in some shape or form, whether that was across the table at breakfast, or sharing a desk in class, or walking the corridors together. He’d never been so comfortable with someone, and yet so completely overwhelmed by them at the same time, and he was perfectly fine with that.

When N.E.W.T.s were finally over, they rewarded themselves with a trip to Hogsmeade where they celebrated with lunch at the Three Broomsticks and a large sack full of Honeydukes sweets to share. They munched on fudge flies and strawberry squids as they strolled around the Black Lake, enjoying the warmth of the early summer sun and their freedom from essays, study sessions, spell practice, and the general stress that accompanies exam preparation. They’d been engaged in a friendly squabble about whether or not a question on their Defense exam had been referring to a doxy or a pixy when Draco came to an abrupt halt. Hermione turned after a few paces, when she realized he’d stopped, to find him staring at her with a scowl on his face.

“What?” she asked, her head cocked to the side as she retraced her steps.

“We leave tomorrow,” he said in a rather flat tone.

“Yes,” she agreed, “That’s been the plan all along, yeah?”

“I just,” he rand his hand through his pale blonde locks and huffed in frustration, “I don’t know when I’ll see you again.” His cheeks took on a pink tinge and he glared at the mossy ground beneath him as if it had offended him.

She came and stood right in front of him so he was forced to look at her and he was taken in, as he so often was, by her open, honest gaze, and the warmth swirling in her amber eyes. He’d gotten so used to her features, grown so fond of them, of _her_ , and though he’d tried to keep his growing panic at bay, the thought of not seeing her every day was tearing him apart. He’d never admitted to thinking of her as anything more than a friend, albeit a very good friend, but he knew that was a load of hippogriff dung. He also knew she deserved so much more than him; so much better than a former-death eater whose fortune had been all-but-obliterated by reparations from the war, and whose family name was worthless in the Wizarding community now.

“Draco,” she said softly, placing her hand on his arm, “You know we’ll still be friends, right? You know I’m not going anywhere.” Her brown eyes started to well up and he wanted to kick himself for upsetting her, but her perfect pink lips were still turned up in a small smile. “Soon as I get settled into my new job, I’ll let you know my schedule and we can plan to meet for lunch, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, trying to sound more skeptical than whiney but not sure he was succeeding, “Until the Wizengamot Administration Office decides it can’t spare the Brightest Witch of the Age for a single second, lest all order crumbles into chaos, and every piece of new legislation spontaneously combusts.”

She laughed and looped her arm through his, tugging him in the direction of the castle where dinner would be ready soon, “I doubt very highly they would refuse me a lunch break, especially if they want to keep me around.” She poked him in the ribs, causing him to yelp, “And what have I told you about using that ridiculous title?”

He snorted and allowed her to pull him out of his dark mood and into her ever-present circle of peace and optimism, determined to enjoy the precious minutes he still had left with her before everything changed.

ooOoo

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she burst out as she flung herself into the chair across from him, trying to disentangle herself from her cloak and scarf with far less grace than usual in her rush to get settled. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, her curls escaping from the loose bun at the back of her neck, and her eyes were sparkling as she surveyed her surroundings. They were trying out a new Muggle restaurant a few blocks away from the Ministry and she seemed pleased with what she was seeing. He could have cared less what the décor looked like, he was just happy to be with her.

True to her word, a week after starting her new job she had owled him to meet for lunch at the café across the street. They had quickly settled into a routine of Monday lunches. A month or so later, they added Wednesday teas, and several weeks after that, Friday dinners. Most of the time, it was just the two of them, but every once in a while they would join up with some of her friends, or some of his, and twice they’d attended large gatherings of both circles combined which had been interesting. She’d only been in her Ministry position for a little over a year when she’d earned a promotion and an official title. She was the first ever legal analyst for the Wizengamot, which meant she studied and picked-apart every law and policy that came across her desk to see if it was beneficial to the magical community or not, and to explain exactly why. In short, it was a job that suited her perfectly and she was thriving in it.

Draco had spent several months after sitting his N.E.W.T.s trying to figure out what to do, what he _could_ do in the wake of his family’s part in the war. His father’s business had centered around trading and investing in magical items and companies, but it had been virtually disbanded after he was sentenced to Azkaban for fifty years. The Malfoy heir had spent a considerable amount of time sorting through the company’s records, familiarizing himself with how things were done, and in the end sought out the help and advice of his father’s solicitor. The older wizard had been happy to assist, accepting Draco’s remorse for his family’s part in the horrors of the past years, and wanted to lead him down a better, more positive path than he’d been forced down before. He took him on as a bit of an apprentice, guiding him in the ways of the economically-minded, and showing him how to put his impressive intellect to use in a variety of instances. In the end, it had landed him a job in the International Magical Trading Standards Body, which the tall blonde could not have been more pleased about, firstly because it was something that was entirely his own, but also because it meant he’d be around Hermione a lot more.

She was still the closest friend he’d ever had, and he was still too afraid to admit that he felt much more for her than that. Anytime he considered broaching the subject, the cowardly voice in the back of his head reminded him he wasn’t good enough for her, and that she’d never return his feelings. He didn’t really have anything to complain about, honestly, he had a very good job, a decent place to live, and the regular company of the most delightful witch. His reputation had slowly crawled its way out of the hole it had been buried in by his association with Voldemort, and he felt like the fates were definitely being kinder to him of late. He had been on this path for a little over a year and couldn’t imagine things being any other way.

He smiled at the object of his affection as she launched into the most recent piece of archaic law she was working on, and the debate she’d gotten into with a “pompous old buffer” about it, which was why she was late.

“It’s fine, really,” he waved away her apology, “I only got here five minutes ago. I had to come from St. Mungo’s, which is why I couldn’t meet you in the atrium.”

“St. Mungo’s?” she looked concerned.

“Yes, someone recently acquired a cursed lamp from somewhere in North Africa and wanted to know if the seller had violated any trade agreements,” he rolled his eyes, “The answer was no, of course, which I could have owled, but I had to tell him in person apparently in order for it to be official.”

“Oh, goodness,” Hermione’s eyes crinkled with mirth.

They ordered their lunches and passed the time with updates about their jobs since they’d seen each other several days before. As always, he found himself getting lost in her animated expressions, her delicate hand motions, and the feeling of blissful contentment he experienced every time he was with her. Towards the end of the meal, she leaned forward and lowered her voice, speaking almost conspiratorially.

“This isn’t official yet,” her eyes darted around to make sure no one was paying them any attention, “But I’m to assist the Bulgarian Ministry with some of the new policies they’re adopting regarding house elves, goblins, and other fully sentient beings.” She looked so excited, as if she was almost bouncing in her seat, and he reached across the table to grab her hand and squeeze it.

“That’s amazing!” he quietly exclaimed, truly pleased for her and knowing she deserved the honor, “Will you be sending them copies of the articles you drafted?”

“Oh, no, I’ll be going over there,” her eyes were wide, as if she was surprised it wasn’t obvious.

His brain screeched to a halt and alarm rose from deep within him. She couldn’t be leaving, not now, not after he’d secured a job in the same building as her. What would become of their weekly lunches and teas and dinner? Who was he supposed to talk to every day on the way in and out of the atrium? Who was he supposed to send ridiculous memos to with snarky comments or references to inside jokes? These frantic thoughts must have manifested themselves in his expression somewhat because she was watching him with concern etched across her pretty features.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he choked out, determined not to let the sheer horror he was feeling at the moment become any more evident than it might already have, “I’m just surprised. I didn’t realize you’d be leaving.”

“Oh,” she laughed lightly and patted his hand, “Don’t worry, it won’t be for long, just a year or so.”

His heart stopped and then plummeted to his shoes, “A year?”

“Give or take,” she shrugged, clearly unaware of the impact her words were having, “It took eight months to implement the new laws here, and they seem to work a little slower, so…” She trailed off and waved her hand in vague explanation as he struggled to swallow.

Her big news revealed, Hermione then turned the conversation to random interesting facts about Bulgaria, the cold-weather wardrobe she was going to need, and how nice it would be to see Viktor.

“Viktor?” Draco managed a strangled pronouncement of the name as he tried to maintain an impassive expression.

“Yes, Viktor. Viktor Krum. Surely you remember him?” again, her wide eyes expressed confusion over his lack of understanding.

“Oh, yes, right,” he forced out through gritted teeth. How could he have forgotten the famous Quidditch player who had escorted his favorite witch to the Yule Ball once upon an entirely different lifetime ago. “I didn’t realize you were still friends.”

She laughed lightly and sat back in her seat, “Yes, we’ve kept in touch over the years. At first it was awkward because he clearly wanted more of a relationship than I did, but I was only fifteen and he was already finishing up school. That, plus the distance,” she shrugged delicately, “It would never have worked.”

“What about now?” the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he hated how accusatory he sounded and could tell she was taken aback by his tone, if the small frown marring her features was anything to go by.

“What do you mean?” she pinned him with a hard look and he knew he had to tread very carefully here, lest he ruin everything they had. Well, everything he clung to with her, at least, since he hardly thought she’d ever return his sentiments.

“I just didn’t know if he’d be expecting to pick up where you two left off,” he tried to sound as if this was just a passing curiosity, but doubted he was succeeding. She knew him too well by now, and knew he rarely cared about the intricacies of other people’s relationships.

“Would it matter to you if he did?” she asked and he felt his heart, which had crawled up to somewhere around his knees by that point, freeze in panic. How was he supposed to answer that? If he said yes, then she would know and his world would implode. If he said no, there was a very real chance she might just wind up with the brooding foreigner and again, his world would cease to exist. He knew he looked like a unicorn caught in a _lumos_ , but he honestly couldn’t get his brain to formulate any sort of answer.

He opened his mouth, closed it, looked down at the table and fiddled with his fork. When he lifted his gaze back up to her, she was watching him carefully with a look on her face he couldn’t quite identify; frustration? Or sadness? Before he could utter a single syllable, they were interrupted by the waitress who came to remove their plates and leave the bill. Thankful for something to do, something to take the attention off his lack of response, he immediately picked it up and started looking it over, and pulling out his wallet. By the time he’d set out the amount owed plus a generous tip, Hermione was pulling her cloak on and gathering her scarf and bag.

“Thanks for lunch, Draco, I need to get back to the office,” she rattled off, refusing to meet his eyes which were wide and confused by her sudden shift in demeanor.

“I’m headed back, too, so we can just,”

“It’s ok, I need to go. I’ll see you later,” and with that, she hastened to the exit without a backwards glance.

ooOoo

He hadn’t seen her again for the rest of the day, which wasn’t that unusual, but when it seems like things are “off” between two people, the lack of interaction always seems worse than it normally would and as a result, he was in a right state. He’d spent the afternoon at his desk staring blankly at the parchments in front of him, not taking in a single word of what was on them. All he could see in his mind’s eye was her face as she’d waited for him to answer her question, and he’d finally identified the expression on it: disappointment.

That revelation had only served to send him spiraling further. Was she disappointed that he was bothered by her possibly taking up with Krum, or that he wasn’t? He _was_ bothered, of course, horribly so, but she didn’t know that, which meant he didn’t know how to take her reaction. He’d left work almost a full hour early, something he never did, and went back to his flat hoping to clear his mind. Unfortunately it only made matters worse, since everywhere he looked he was reminded of her. She’d helped him pick out most of the furniture for the living room, and had insisted on gifting him with a fancy Muggle contraption that made all different kinds of coffee drinks, which sat prominently on his kitchen counter. There were several pictures of the two of them tacked to the fridge with magnets and his stomach was in knots as he stared at them. They looked so happy together, even though they weren’t _together_ , not really anyway, and now…

He had never been one for grand gestures or expressions of sentiment, never one to lay his heart or his pride or his reputation on the line for anyone or anything, but he realized in that moment, as he stood in the middle of his empty flat that if he didn’t do something, the best part of his life was about to disappear, and that terrified him. He strode purposefully to the desk in his room, yanked open a drawer and started rifling through it, deciding to write her a letter expressing his thoughts. As he was rummaging around, his fingers grazed a rough, hard object and he stilled. Shifting the rolls of parchment aside, he saw something he’d forgotten about; a rock.

It was the very same rock she’d thrown across the courtyard that day, the one that had almost given him a black eye, but instead had opened a door for him he’d never anticipated. He had come across it the day after, as he’d been crossing the outdoor space on his way to the greenhouses. It had landed against one of the low walls, and was just sitting there as if someone had placed it on the newly-grown grass on purpose. He’d picked it up for some unknown reason and kept it. He didn’t think she even knew he still had it, and he felt rather mental for doing so, but there it was. He picked it up, shoved the drawer closed and walked swiftly back through the living room, grabbing his cloak on the way out and slamming the door behind him.

He knew she usually stayed in her office later than most, especially on Mondays when new documents were typically delivered, so he hoped he’d catch her before she left. He raced through the atrium and up the lift, almost jogging down the hall, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from other Ministry employees, till he reached her door, which was closed. He knocked purposefully but no response came from within. He knocked again and tried the handle, but it was locked, which meant she’d already left. An anxious feeling started to fill his chest as he retraced his steps. As he exited the lift in the atrium once more, he saw her stepping out of another one further down the line, but the space was bustling with witches and wizards trying to get home after a long day at work and he couldn’t seem to make any headway.

He saw her turn towards the main exit and knew she was headed towards the apparition point she usually took at the end of the block. For some inexplicable reason, he needed to reach her before she disappeared, even though he knew she was probably just going home. The thought of her entering her little flat by herself, with that look of disappointment still on her face, without him fixing this, shredded his heart. He bolted past several offended-looking people and tore down the front steps, his eye frantically searching the busy sidewalk for her familiar chestnut-colored curls. He spotted her about twenty yards away.

“Granger!” he called, but the noise of the city swallowed his voice. He dodged and weaved through the stream of pedestrians and raised his voice, not caring if he was making a scene. “Granger!” He saw her tilt her head as if she might have heard something, but she kept walking and was only a few feet from the corner where she would turn. He broke through a knot of shoppers and jogged down the block just as she rounded the bend.

“Hermione!”

This time she definitely heard him, for she stopped and turned around, her face full of surprise at finding him there. He closed the distance in several long strides and came to stand just beyond arm’s length from her, and by then the shock had worn off and her eyes held a wary skepticism as they took him in. He looked down at the pavement and ran a hand across the back of his neck, unsure of what to say or where to begin. He shoved his other hand in his pocket and felt the rough surface of a familiar object. Jerking his gaze back up to her, he met her wide brown eyes with determination.

“It would matter to me.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, “What?”

“If Krum wanted to pick back up with you, it would matter to me.” Her eyes widened as she realized what he was saying and he decided if he was going to make a fool of himself, he might as well do it properly. “Just like it would matter to me if anyone wanted to start something with you,” he pulled his hand from his pocket and held the rock out to her in his palm. She stared at it for a heartbeat before recognition dawned and her eyes flickered back up to his face, searching for more answers.

“That day,” he nodded at the palm-sized stone, “changed something for me, changed everything, really. I was always too afraid of ruining what we have to admit I wanted more, but I do, and the thought of you having that with someone else kills me.” He met her amber eyes again and saw they were glistening with unshed tears and he refused to think about the possible reason for that as he forged ahead.

“I _do_ want more, Hermione, I want you, I want us, I want all of it. I have for a long time,” he sighed and dropped his gaze to the ground once more, “I’m just sorry it’s taken me until now to say it.” He let the hand holding the rock hang by his side, his heart pounding and his stomach churning as he considered the damage he might have just caused, but before he could start panicking in earnest, she stepped into his space and peered up at him, her lashes wet, but her eyes sparkling and a small smile tugging at her lips. She reached down and gently lifted his hand back up, studying the rock still clutched in it.

“That day changed everything for me, too,” she said softly, “I kept hoping, but I didn’t know if you’d ever want,” her voice trailed off as her gaze slowly lifted to meet his once more. “Since then, it’s always been you, Draco.”

He didn’t even register that his other hand had come up to caress the side of her face, or that hers was gripping the front of his cloak, and an hour later he couldn’t have said who closed the last few inches, perhaps both of them. What he did know was that the moment his lips touched hers, the world righted itself and he was lost in a haze of warmth and honey-scented curls. She let go of his hand to run her fingers through his hair and he wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her closer, dropping the rock on the sidewalk behind her. When they broke apart after a few seconds, he gathered her close to him and simply held her, wondering how he’d ever survived without having her in his arms before.

She tilted her head to look at him, a brilliant smile beaming on her beautiful face as she raised up on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Nobody but you,” she whispered as he turned slightly and his lips met hers again. He smiled as he trailed kisses across her cheek and pressed one to her temple.

“Nobody but you,” he agreed.

_**“I don’t wanna live without you, I don’t wanna even breathe. I don’t wanna dream about you, wanna wake up with you next to me. I don’t wanna go down any other road now, I don’t wanna love nobody but you. Looking in your eyes now, if I had to die now, I don’t wanna love nobody but you.” ~Blake Shelton & Gwen Stefani** _

**Author's Note:**

> This might be the fluffiest one yet. I absolutely LOVE this song and couldn't help but imagine Draco having a dramatic moment, trying to get to her and tell her how he felt. Also, I like to think the rock is a permanent fixture in their home in the years to come - as a paperweight on his desk, or simply sitting on the end of their mantle, next to a picture from their wedding. I'm a sap. It's fine ;) Thank you so much for reading! Would love for you to check out the rest of the fics in this series!! <3


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